


All I Want For Christmas is You

by houdini74



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Tenderness, The spirit of Christmas - maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74
Summary: David is working at the store on Christmas Eve when an mysterious stranger makes him very late for his dad's Christmas party.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 64
Kudos: 333





	All I Want For Christmas is You

**Author's Note:**

> This crosses in and out of canon, especially Merry Christmas Johnny Rose, but I've scrambled all of the timelines, so best to forget any of that. It is an AU, after all.

**CHRISTMAS EVE, 2016**

It’s snowing. Big, fat flakes are drifting slowly to the ground, perfect for Christmas Eve. It should make David appreciate the season. Or something. Instead, it makes him think resentfully of Hallmark Christmas specials, of walking hand-in-hand in the park, drinking hot chocolate. Not that he’s ever had that. And not that Schitt’s Creek even has a park worth walking in. 

Christmas is always the worst. Christmases before they’d come to Schitt’s Creek hadn’t exactly been filled with warmth and joy. But at least they’d been...busy. Glamorous holiday parties, designer holiday fashion, bowls filled with ecstasy and molly. He’d been the centre of attention and not always in a bad way. Looking back, it hadn’t been entirely in a good way, either, but at least it had been something. Not like it is here, where the nothingness surrounds him.

Everyone here seems so happy. And it isn’t like in the city where everyone smiles at Christmas, even if they don’t mean it. Schitt’s Creek is filled with people like Jocelyn and Twyla who wear Christmas sweaters because they like them, not because they think they’re ironic. Or Ray, who turns Christmas into a business opportunity and still makes it seem like the happiest day of the year even as he’s making you to pay surge prices for shabby Christmas trees. 

His dad is determined to recreate the magic of Christmas this year. As if anything this town can offer could come close to the grand piano or the ice sculptures or the reindeer room of past holidays. He’d rather fast-forward through the season, so he takes his timing closing the store, looking for a distraction. With a sigh, he flips the lock on the door. As he stops to straighten the bags of tea there’s a tapping at the window. He flinches, spinning around to peer through the glass into the darkening night. An indistinct face is at the window. 

Hoping it’s not a serial killer, or even worse, Roland, he turns back to open the door. A strange man stands on the step, a black toque pulled over his ears. Two chestnut-colored curls are peeking out on his forehead. His practical blue winter jacket is covered with a dusting of snow.

“Sorry, we’re closed.”

“You just closed two seconds ago.” Is this stranger arguing with him? The other man smiles, it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Look, I’ve been driving all day and I left home without packing anything and it’s Christmas Eve…” The man trails off hopefully, his eyes pleading.

David shudders at the notion of leaving home without proper skin care products. Any distraction is better than heading back to the forced cheer that awaits him at the motel. “Fine. You can have five minutes.”

He locks the door behind the man just in case Roland really is lurking in the dark. The man moves quickly through the store. David watches his ass, the tight jeans he’s wearing show it off perfectly. He enjoys what he sees but it’s not like someone who wears Levis would ever be interested in the likes of David Rose. The other man completes a lap of the store, depositing a handful of products on the counter. 

David pulls two bottles out of the pile. “Okay, well you can’t buy these.”

“Oh? I thought this was a store. That sells things. Or are these from your personal collection?” The man is smirking at him. David scowls in response. 

“This facial cleanser isn’t right for your skin type. And with your curly hair you should use a different shampoo.” Bad enough that he’s let this man in after closing, but now he’s making fun of him? He checks the time. It’s 5:15. He’d promised he’d be back at the motel by 5:30 for the party.

“Oh.” The single word mocks him. Whiskey-colored brown eyes meet his, so warm he wants to curl up inside them like a cat in front of a fireplace. 

He bites his lip and the other man’s eyes drop to his mouth. “Look, what you need is this shampoo.” He comes out from behind the counter and picks up the correct bottle. He purses his lips considering the man’s skin type, his eyes lingering just a second too long on the fullness of his mouth. The corners of the man’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile as he watches David consider his face. “And this cleanser.” He picks up a second bottle. “The, uh, honey will make your skin soft.” He sets the new bottles on the counter beside the man’s other purchases and leans on the counter, hoping to move things along. 

The man picks up the shampoo to read the label. David traces the veins on the back of his hands with his eyes. He wants to feel those hands on his body. This fucking town. It’s been way too long if he’s fantasizing about random customers.

“Good to know.” The man sets the shampoo back down on the counter. His eyes rise to meet David’s moving with glacial slowness over his face. Did they linger on his lips? He’s not sure. 

He wants to suggest a toner and a moisturizer but the other man’s eyes are riveted to his and he’s having trouble remembering why that’s important. Fuck it. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along the crest of the other man’s cheek. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t move as electricity crackles in the air between them. “I’m David.”

“Patrick.” It’s barely a whisper. 

Everything freezes. His hand on Patrick’s face, the snow outside, time itself stands still. Only the sound of their breathing remains, loud and harsh in the small space. And then Patrick is moving, three quick strides bringing him around the counter to crash into David.

He’s kissed a thousand people but this is something different. The rawness and desperation are familiar but the hint of tenderness is new. Patrick’s lips are hot and urgent, his tongue forces David’s mouth open, licking and taking. Yet his hand cups David’s cheek, his thumb softly stroking his skin. Unconsciously, David tilts his head to lean into Patrick’s hand. The combination of the two sensations takes his breath away, makes it hard to think. 

Patrick presses him against the door frame to the back room. His thighs bracket David’s legs, holding him in place. As hard as it is to concentrate, he’s aware that the encroaching darkness and lighted storefront are putting them on display for the entire town. Blindly, he reaches out and yanks the curtain open, pushing Patrick backwards through the opening and tugging the curtain closed behind them.

The lamp on the desk emits a soft warm puddle of light. Otherwise, the room is dim except for the light that seeps in around the closed curtain. Patrick is biting and licking his neck. David tips his head back even as he guides Patrick backward and backward and backward until his knees hit the back of the couch. 

“Oh!” Patrick squeaks with surprise as he falls onto the couch. David doesn’t give him time to adjust, straddling his lap and grinding into him. He drops his hands to Patrick’s shoulders.

“Is this what you want?”

“God, yes.” Patrick grips his ass, dragging them together. Beneath him, he can feel how hard Patrick is and he groans at the friction. Patrick’s hands move up to tug at the hem of his sweater. He pulls it off, draping it carefully over the back of the couch. It’s cool in the back room. He shivers, goosebumps forming across his bare chest.

“Yours too.” Patrick’s fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt. He’s still wearing his winter coat, as soon as he frees the last button, David pulls both off the coat and his shirt and tosses them aside.

Patrick’s skin is pale, a pink flush spreads down his neck onto his chest. The cool room makes his nipples pucker. David brushes the left one with his fingertips, squeezing as Patrick gasps, his eyes drifting closed. He drops his head to Patrick’s shoulder, sucking and biting a mark into the soft skin. Patrick runs his hands along David’s waist, his fingers coming to a halt at the button of his jeans. He tilts his head back to look at David, the question clear in his eyes.

“Can I?”

“Yeah. Yes.” It’s a relief when his cock springs free of the constricting clothing. He bites back a moan as Patrick’s hand wraps around him even as he struggles with the closure of Patrick’s jeans, the bulge of Patrick’s cock and his awkward position on the couch making things more difficult than necessary.

Finally, his fingers remember how zippers work. He rubs Patrick’s cock through his grey cotton briefs, Patrick’s hips twitch upwards, his own hand tightening around David. He grinds towards Patrick, sliding him free of his underwear, both of them moaning as the contact isn’t enough. Throwing his head back, he spots a bottle of lube on the shelf beside the couch. He’d tucked it there after his last time with Jake and had forgotten about it ever since. He leans sideways just far enough to grab it, ignoring Patrick’s frustrated groan.

He wraps his now slick hand around both of them, getting a good rhythm between his hand and his hips. Patrick’s hands steady his hips as he moves up to meet him, the two of them panting. He can feel the tension rising inside him. Beneath him, Patrick’s face is flushed, his head tipped back against the couch, eyes half-shut.

“Close...fuck...David...I’m…” With a cry Patrick’s hips give a final twitch and he’s coming between them. Patrick’s strangled moan pushes him over the edge and he follows, burrowing his face into Patrick’s neck and giving a final nip to the hickey on Patrick’s shoulder. 

There’s a box of Kleenex on the desk. Before he can get out of Patrick’s lap to retrieve it, Patrick’s hands are cupping his face, his thumbs brushing his cheekbones as he kisses him slowly and sweetly. 

It’s too much. 

He scrambles off of Patrick, grabbing a handful of tissues and tosses the rest of the box to him. He cleans up as best as he can without a shower and pulls on his sweater. 

“David…” Patrick has put on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. David wants to tear it off of him and start over again, using his lips and his teeth to take him apart. Patrick’s eyes meet his, they’re still as warm as they were when Patrick first walked into the store. A flash of longing crosses Patrick’s face, before it’s replaced by a now familiar smirk. “I think my five minutes are up.”

“Oh, fuck.” He was supposed to be at the motel half an hour ago. “I...have to go. It’s not you...I, uh, my family...”

“David, it’s fine. It’s Christmas Eve, most people have somewhere else to be.” There’s look of regret in the back of Patrick’s eyes as he finishes buttoning his shirt and pulls on his coat. “I’ll just pay for those products…”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He rings up Patrick’s purchases. It seems wrong to just send him into the snowy night by himself. It’s Christmas Eve, no one should be alone on Christmas Eve. He hands Patrick the canvas tote. “You know, if you wanted...my family is having this thing. Tonight. Which I am now very late for. Most of the town will be there if you, you know, if you wanted to come.” He runs his thumb along a crack in the counter, not wanting to see the rejection that Patrick is undoubtedly trying to hide.

“Mmm. I wish I could, but I have another four hours to drive before I make it home, so…”

“Oh. Okay.” As let downs go, it’s one of the nicest ones he’s had. For a brief second he fantasizes about this spontaneous hook-up turning into something more, of introducing Patrick as his date, of showing his family that someone nice might be interested in him. He looks out the window. The snow is letting up. “I won’t keep you, then.”

Patrick pauses at the door and gives him a wistful smile. “Merry Christmas, David.”

“Merry Christmas, Patrick.” He whispers the words as the door closes behind Patrick. David watches until he disappears into the night.

**CHRISTMAS EVE, 2017**

He planned to close early. He even posted a sign on the door a week in advance **Closing at 3 pm on Christmas Eve**. Alexis had helped him choose a font that was ‘friendly and festive’ instead of ‘abrupt and rude.’ In the end, it hasn’t made any difference. 

Roland arrives at five minutes to three, insisting that David help him decide which massage oil Jocelyn will like best for their traditional Christmas night activities. And then, before he can bleach that image from his mind, Twyla comes in with a list of Christmas gifts for her entire family. As happy as he is to have Twyla drop $500 at his store, it takes until 4:15 before she’s ready to leave. 

His back aches. A low throbbing that spreads down his spine with each step. Exhaustion weighs down his eyes; he’s five minutes away from a migraine. And he’s late. He’d told Alexis he would be back at the motel an hour ago. He wishes Twyla a ‘Merry Christmas’ but before he can lock the door behind her, it’s opening again and he swears to god, if one more local is doing their last-minute Christmas shopping, he’s going to send them to the gas station on the highway to buy air fresheners and cheap sunglasses before he sells them so much as a single bar of soap. 

“We’re closed.” He counts the change in the till, praying it will reconcile on the first try.

“David.” The voice is soft and familiar. He never thought he’d hear it again.

Slowly he looks up, not wanting to be wrong. Amber-colored eyes meet his, pinning him in place. “We’re still closed.”

“Good.” A smile spreads across Patrick’s face and his own lips follow along, like they’re playing an overly sappy version of Simon Says. Patrick flips the lock behind him and David’s heart skips a beat.

“Are you back for more shampoo?”

“If you have some, I wouldn’t say no.” Patrick still hasn’t moved from his spot by the door. David hasn’t been able to look away, Patrick’s gaze holding him in place like a fly in amber. 

“It’s too bad we’re closed, then.” He wants Patrick to tell him why he’s here. Why he’s come back twelve months later. Why he hadn’t made any effort to so much as message him on Instagram. He crosses his arms. “Why are you here?”

For the first time, Patrick seems uncertain. David narrows his eyes at him. Patrick’s uncertainty releases him from the vise of his gaze. David moves out from behind the counter, coming to a stop in front of Patrick. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.” 

He pulls Patrick towards him, right hand at the back of his neck. Kissing Patrick is familiar, as though the last time he’d kissed him was yesterday instead of a year ago. 

Patrick’s arms close around his back. The bulkiness of his winter coat surrounds him, the rough polyester fabric making him cringe. His lips are cold and David can feel the press of his icy nose against his cheek. He nips at Patrick’s bottom lip, licking eagerly into his mouth. He wants to take Patrick apart, wants to make him think about this moment every day for the next year.

Before he can do anything further, Patrick is moving him away from the light of the windows. He shuffles backwards, trusting Patrick to navigate. Patrick releases him to make the tricky turn at the counter, he takes David’s hand and pulls him into the back room, tumbling them both down on the couch. 

Patrick’s hands frame his face. His hands are cold on David’s cheeks. The intensity of Patrick’s gaze makes him squirm and he looks away, staring at the ceiling rather than meeting those eyes that are so difficult to resist. 

“Is this some sort of Christmas tradition then? Random traveler stops in for an annual Christmas Eve hook-up?” He tries to make it a joke, but his voice betrays him. 

Patrick stops moving. “I...is that what you want it to be?” His voice is cautious, unreadable.

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” It never matters what he wants. The fact is that one night with Patrick is the best offer he’s had all year.

“It matters to me.” Patrick’s voice is soft. He tries not to focus on it, knowing if he thinks about the warmth of Patrick’s voice it will shatter him into a thousand pieces.

“Does it, though? You’re four hours from somewhere else you need to be. It’s not like we’re building a relationship here.”

Patrick pulls away from him and sits up. “Maybe I should go.”

“That’s not what I said.”

Patrick turns towards him, his face is troubled. “I didn’t mean to stop here again. When I left last time, I thought that was it, a one-time thing. And then I saw the exit on the highway…” His voice trails off. He’s worrying at his hands, David remembers how they felt on his body. “I’ve thought about this, thought about us a lot over the past year. Let’s just say that meeting you was the best part of my Christmas. But you’re right, you deserve better.”

“Again, that’s not what I said.” It’s questionable that he deserves better, but he decides not to linger on that. He puts a hand on the back of Patrick’s neck to draw him closer. “It’s Christmas Eve, it seems a shame to not enjoy this.” He kisses him, slow and gentle but with enough heat to stifle Patrick’s protests. 

He leans back against the armrest, drawing Patrick with him. Patrick is still wearing his winter coat and toque, he cards his fingers beneath the woolen hat, tossing it to one side as he runs his hands through Patrick’s short hair. Patrick whines as he runs his fingernails over his scalp, he arches into their kiss, pressing David backwards. The bulky winter coat is in the way, he tugs at the zipper, growling when it sticks. With a low laugh, Patrick sits up long enough to unzip it and pull it off, leaving it in a messy pile beside the couch.

Patrick is wearing a sweater that looks like it came from a rack at The Bay or even worse, Walmart. He runs his hands up his shoulders, surprised at how soft it feels beneath his fingers. His phone buzzes in his pocket. Patrick pauses from where he’s kissing his neck, David tilts his head, hoping to encourage him to go back to what he was doing.

“Do you need to get that?”

“No, nope.” Whoever it is can wait. He’d put the world on hold for Patrick.

Patrick flashes him a smile that would make him weak in the knees if he were standing instead of lying beneath him on the uncomfortable couch and presses his lips to a spot behind David’s ear. “Mmm.” Patrick’s teeth scrap the same spot, lightly, making him shiver. His phone buzzes again. 

“God.” 

Patrick looks at him, questioning. He shakes his head and pulls him closer, sliding his hands beneath the soft sweater. Patrick quivers beneath his touch, his lips seeking David’s pulse point. He nuzzles at Patrick’s hairline, wanting to kiss his lips, even as his hands stroke Patrick’s sides. Patrick finally obliges, his lips teasing David’s with gentle kisses. He moans as Patrick kisses him more deeply. His phone buzzes again.

“Maybe you should get that.”

He rolls his eyes, but wiggles his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. There are three messages from his sister.

 **Alexis:** Where are you?  
**Alexis:** You were supposed to be here an hour ago, David!  
**Alexis:** Dad’s getting annoyed

“Fuck.” 

“You have to go.” It’s not a question. Patrick reaches for his coat. 

“You could come…?” 

Patrick is already shaking his head. “I said I’d make it to my parent’s place tonight.”

“Maybe next year you should stop in a little earlier.” What is he even saying? There probably won’t be a next time. He can understand going out of your way for a hook-up, he’s gone further for less, but making a detour for an interrupted make-out session seems unlikely.

“Maybe I should.” Patrick has his coat on now and he’s searching for his toque. 

“Over there.” David points to an open cardboard box, Patrick’s hat peeks over the edge. 

Patrick tugs the toque down over his ears and he stands awkwardly in front of David, bundled up for the cold. Before David can say anything more, Patrick cups his face in his hands, kissing him roughly. “Merry Christmas, David.”

“Merry Christmas.” The curtain sways shut behind him and Patrick is gone.

**CHRISTMAS EVE, 2018**

He leaves the door unlocked even after he’s flipped the closed sign in the window. Every sound, every vehicle that passes on the street, makes him look up. He counts the cash in the till three times. He’s stalling. He should have been at the motel half an hour ago. Still, he pulls out the broom to sweep the floor, keeping one ear cocked in case the bell on the door rings.

It remains stubbornly silent. 

He stares out the front window of the store. The street is dark and quiet and there’s no reason for him not to lock the door and head back to the motel. 

The last minute Christmas shoppers have depleted his stock. He goes to the back, pulling out a couple of boxes of products. He studiously ignores the couch as it looms mockingly in the middle of the room. 

He restocks the last of the shelves. He’s over an hour late for the party now. Patrick’s not coming. It was stupid to believe he would show up again. Still, he had hoped. He laughs to himself. When has hope ever been his friend?

At the motel, light spills out from rooms 6 and 7. His decorating efforts have paid off, the red and gold color scheme makes the dated decor look homey, almost elegant. At the side of the room, Stevie is putting the last of the tinsel on the tree. It still has a tattered and war-torn appearance, but the decorations are concealing the worst of it. But it’s the person standing awkwardly by themselves in the far corner of the room that draws his attention. He pushes down the flicker of anticipation that flares inside him, letting his annoyance rise the surface.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Patrick smirks at him. “You invited me to come.”

“I invited you last year. Two years ago. There’s fashionably late and then there’s whatever this is.” He waves his hands at Patrick. Patrick leans back as one hand comes within millimeters of his face. The infuriating smirk fades off Patrick’s face as he realizes how upset David is.

“I’m sorry, David. I…”

“I waited for you.” It’s like tearing his heart out and handing it to Patrick. “I waited for you until I was an hour late for this party. And then I gave up and I came here to find you…” He crosses his arms, scowling at Patrick. He’s so focused on the other man that he doesn’t notice Stevie coming up behind him.

“Who’s this?” Stevie jerks her head at Patrick, a wineglass in one hand as she struggles to manage the tinsel with the other.

Like a boy scout, Patrick offers his hand and a big smile. “Patrick.”

“Um, Patrick and I met at the store and here he is.” It was true if you ignored the fact that Patrick was 365 days late. He can feel Patrick staring at him, but he keeps his eyes fastened on Stevie. If he looks at Patrick, he’ll do something inappropriate. Like yell at him. Or kiss him. 

Stevie gives him a funny look. “You just invited a stranger to this party? You?”

“That’s right.” He glares at her. Beside him, Patrick makes a sound that might have been a laugh. It takes everything he has not to find a way to remove the smirk he knows is sitting on his perfect lips.

“But you hate people.”

He shrugs. “It’s Christmas Eve.” 

“I’m pretty sure you also hate Christmas.” 

“Maybe I’m becoming a better person.”

Stevie gives him a skeptical look as she hands him the tinsel so she can drink her wine. “Yeah, maybe. I need more wine.” Stevie heads into the other room to refill her glass. He turns back to Patrick, exhaustion rippling through him.

“I waited for you.” His voice is pitchy and he avoids Patrick’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, David.” Patrick reaches out a hand towards David’s arm, letting it drop uselessly at his side. “I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

“Oh my god, David. Where have you been?” His sister stalks across the room towards him. Stevie trails behind her, a now-full wineglass in her hand.

“Eat mistletoe, Alexis.” He huffs at his sister in frustration. “I had customers at the store. I couldn’t just leave.” Patrick flinches beside him and he sees Stevie’s eyes narrow. 

“Dad’s going to be here any minute...who’s this?”

“This is Patrick.” This is going to be his evening. Introducing Patrick to his friends and family as a random customer he’d brought home from the store. As though he had collected a stray puppy on his way home from work.

“Aren’t you the cutest thing.” Alexis boops Patrick on the nose with her finger. Patrick shoots David a slightly confused, slightly panicked look. 

“Where’s Ted? Don’t you guys have a vet party to go to?” 

“Oh, I invited all of Ted’s boring friends to come here.” Alexis walks her fingers up his arm before sashaying away to find Ted at the drinks station.

“Sorry…” He winces at Patrick. “That was my sister.”

“I gathered.” Patrick’s tone is dry. Before he can say anything further, the motel door opens and his parents spill inside to a chorus of ‘Merry Christmas’. His dad looks around the room before coming to join him and Patrick by the tree.

“Great job with the decorations, son.” His dad is beaming, the emotion on his face making him very uncomfortable.

“Well, thanks.” 

“Patrick.” His dad claps Patrick on the shoulder. “Glad you could join us. I see you’ve met my son, David.” 

He gives Patrick a confused look. “Your dad checked me in earlier today.” He narrows his eyes at him. “And he may have invited me to the party.”

“Oh, I see.” This was going as badly as he thought it would when he’d first invited Patrick two years ago. Still, there’s a warm flutter inside him at having Patrick beside him.

Not surprisingly, since he doesn’t know anyone else, Patrick sticks close to him for most of the evening. After his annoyance wears off it’s nice. This must be what it is like to be part of a couple over the holidays. Even if that definitely isn’t what they are.

The party starts to break up after the Jazzagals sing a surprisingly touching rendition of Silent Night. He’s happy to see Stevie shed a tear, hoping it will give him ammunition when she inevitably brings up Patrick in the days to come.

He walks Patrick to the door. Patrick shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I should go.” His eyes meet David’s. “I’m...um...in room 3. Just in case you wanted to know.”

“Are you hoping I’ll tell Santa where you are?.” David’s mouth twists as he holds back a smile. 

The corner of Patrick’s mouth twitches upwards. “No. That’s definitely not what I was hoping.” 

“Oh.” It’s not fair how easily Patrick’s words can knock the air from his lungs. He takes a deep breath. “Merry Christmas, Patrick.”

“Merry Christmas, David.”

After the party he goes through his usual skincare routine, half of his mind is occupied with what Patrick is doing, four rooms over. He crawls into bed, staring at the ceiling until he’s sure Alexis has fallen asleep. He slips his phone into the pocket of his sleep pants and slowly pulls on his Ugg boots.

“Oh my god, David. What are you doing?” Alexis’s voice is sleepy and lacks its usual bite. He freezes in place.

“I need some air.”

“Whatever, David. We both know you’re going to see that little buttonface cutie you were with at the party tonight.” His sister rolls over so her back is to him and he hears her breathing even out. He knows that tomorrow he’ll pay the price for her perceptive nature, but he slips out the door, pulling it closed behind him as quietly as possible.

Soft light leaks out from behind the curtains in room 3. He bites his lip, hesitating before knocks gently on the door. There’s a soft shuffling sound and Patrick pulls the door open.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Patrick has changed into a grey t-shirt and plaid boxers. Over his shoulder, David can see a book open and face down on the bed. The covers are slightly rumpled from where Patrick has been sitting.

Patrick steps to one side so that David can enter the room. He stops at the foot of the bed, twisting his rings. Suddenly, this feels like a mistake. “Uh...I’m not sure…”

“Do you want something to drink? Your friend Stevie gave me this bottle of wine on my way out.”

“Did she?” Stevie never did anything without an ulterior motive. Still, he doesn’t want to turn down a free drink. “Sure, wine sounds good.”

He sits at the table while Patrick reclaims his spot on the bed. The wine gives him something to do with his hands but it does nothing to relieve the awkward silence. Finally, Patrick clears his throat.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Any question would be welcome.

“Are you who I think you are?”

“Finally recognized me from the supermarket tabloids? Or maybe it was my sister?”

“Not exactly.” Patrick looks down at his wine glass. “I used to work at a Rose Video. Seeing your dad tonight reminded me of the company Christmas cards.”

“That’s us.” He laughs bitterly. “The destitute Rose family, stranded in Schitt’s Creek.”

Patrick’s eyes are soft. “It must have been lonely, leaving behind everything you knew.”

Fuck. There’s a lump in his throat now. He takes a large swallow of wine, trying to recover. “I...um...actually Stevie’s been a better friend than anyone I knew before.”

“Hmm.” When he speaks again, Patrick’s voice is wistful. “I’m happy for you.”

He can’t handle this much sincerity. If Patrick continues down this track, he might end up crying on his shoulder, which is definitely not why he came here. “You know what else would make me happy?” He sets his empty glass on the table and gets up to sit beside Patrick on the bed. 

“Yeah?” Patrick’s lips curve up in a smirk and he finishes his own wine, setting the glass on the nightstand.

“If we picked up where we left off last year.” He cups the back of Patrick’s head, pulling him close for a kiss, licking at his lips until he whines.

“Yeah, god, let’s do that.”

He pushes Patrick backwards against the pillows, both of them stretching and shuffling awkwardly until they’re lying face to face. He feels painfully exposed in his thin t-shirt and sleep pants. Patrick tugs at his hip. He groans softly as their bodies press together, Patrick’s cock is hard against him. He thrusts his hips harder than he means to and Patrick gives a low, shuddering sigh. His mouth searches for David’s, it’s hot and wet and he opens fully for David. 

He loses himself in kissing Patrick. His world narrows to the sting of Patrick’s stubble on his lips, the thrust of Patrick’s tongue, the low moan Patrick makes when he nips at his bottom lip.

Patrick’s hips are twitching into his, small movements that he wouldn’t notice if they weren’t tangled so closely together. He gives into his own response, the rhythm building between them. It’s not enough to make him come, but it feels so good, the rub of soft fabric against his cock, the wet heat of Patrick’s mouth. His breath hitches as Patrick’s control slips.

“Wait.” He forces himself to stop as Patrick pulls back. “I don’t want to come like this.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzles at Patrick’s neck, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath his lips. “What do you want?”

Strong fingers tug at the back of his neck, forcing him to look at Patrick. His short hair is disheveled, his eyes blown wide. “Suck my cock. Please?”

“Mmm hmm. Yes.” He gives Patrick a quick kiss before sliding down his body, stopping to mouth at his nipple through the thin cotton. Patrick writhes beneath him, his hands sliding into David’s hair, drawing him closer. He hums, satisfied, letting Patrick control him for a minute before moving lower. Patrick’s t-shirt is rucked up, a strip of skin visible above his boxers. He slides his hands beneath the grey cloth, running his tongue along Patrick’s bare stomach. Patrick shivers and his hands tighten in David’s hair. 

He sits up to pull off Patrick’s boxers. Patrick makes a frustrated huff as David moves out of reach. It turns into an eager groan as David licks the head of his cock. Settling himself between Patrick’s legs he takes Patrick fully in his mouth. Patrick’s hips jerk upwards, he presses them into the mattress. Patrick’s breath hisses at the sensation.

Patrick’s hands are petting the back of his head with short, uncertain strokes. He pulls off with a soft pop. “You can pull my hair. I don’t mind.” There’s a short pause before Patrick thrusts his hands into his hair, the sharp tug makes him whine. 

He takes Patrick’s cock back into his mouth, taking long, deep strokes. It’s not long before Patrick’s hands pull even more firmly at his hair, his hips stuttering as he fights for control. “I’m close...David...fuck.” With that Patrick is coming, his body going limp beneath David’s hands.

He presses a kiss to the bare skin at the edge of Patrick’s t-shirt, smiling as he quivers at the touch. 

He settles into the pillow beside Patrick, watching as his breathing evens out. Needing to ease the pressure on his swollen cock, he slips a hand into his sleep pants.

“What are you doing?”

Patrick hasn’t opened his eyes. “Um…” Patrick’s eyes flash open, they’re hot and hungry. 

“That’s mine.” Before David can react, Patrick is on him, rolling him onto his back, licking greedy kisses deep into his mouth. He whimpers as Patrick pulls away. “Unless, you don’t want…?”

David growls at him, pressing a hand to the back of Patrick’s head, desperate to force their mouths together. “I want.”

With a satisfied grunt, Patrick goes back to kissing him. The press of Patrick’s lips shatters any illusion that David is the one in control. Patrick is taking him apart, piece by piece and all he’s done is kiss him. Abruptly, Patrick straddles David and sits up and pulls off his t-shirt with one fluid motion. The sight of his naked body when David is still fully clothed makes him even harder. He grasps Patrick’s hips and bites his lower lip as hard as he can to keep from coming. 

Patrick pulls his pants and underwear down far enough to free his cock. He moans as Patrick’s hand wraps around him, thrusting his hips upwards as his eyes slip closed. “David. Look at me.” Patrick’s voice is soft, but it’s an order nonetheless. He forces his eyes open as Patrick grinds down on him one last time before moving lower to take David’s cock in his mouth. The warmth of Patrick’s mouth combined with the vision of the naked man kneeling between his legs sends him over the edge, his hips bucking up into Patrick’s mouth, his hands clenching on Patrick’s head.

He’s panting and floaty. Patrick cups his face with his hands, bending down to kiss him sweetly before throwing his leg over David’s and burrowing into his side. He wraps an arm around his chest, pulling David to him.

He tries to relax but his mind churns with everything he wants but can never have. In a few hours, Patrick will leave again, traveling to wherever he goes. Maybe he’ll return next year or maybe not. Either way, a Christmas Eve hook-up isn’t the beginning of anything. Beside him, Patrick’s eyes are drifting closed. Carefully, he lifts his arm from Patrick’s stomach, trying to slide out of the bed without disturbing him.

“You don’t have to leave.” David freezes, his eyes seeking Patrick’s face. The other man hasn’t moved, his eyes are still closed. “If you want to go, that’s fine, but I’d like it if you stayed.” The brown eyes flutter open. How long would it take before those eyes released their hold on him? Weeks? Years? He’ll never find out, but the few days they’ve had together isn’t enough.

“Uh…” Those eyes look at him, but Patrick doesn’t say anything else. “Are you sure?” Patrick’s lips curve up in a smile.

“I’m sure.”

Slowly, David eases himself back into the bed, trying to readjust to the unfamiliar sensation of lying next to someone who wants him to be there. Patrick’s arm comes around him, pulling him closer. With a small sigh, he tucks his head into the crook of Patrick’s shoulder. Unconsciously, Patrick’s hand comes up to card through his hair.

“Do you ever feel like you’ve spent your entire life lying to yourself?”

Oh. They’re talking about feelings now. He should have left when he had the chance. “Um, I once tried to get back to New York by stealing an old truck with a quarter full gas tank and no money. I think it’s clear that my ability for self deception is pretty high.”

“I’m running away from home.” Patrick’s hand stops moving in his hair. He laughs, self-deprecatingly. “It’s Christmas and I’m running away.”

“Well, I’m glad you ended up in my store.” Regret courses through him at the idea that this might be the last time he sees Patrick. Running away from home presumably means he won’t be passing through again.

“Sorry, this is too much. I shouldn’t...I’ve just never said that out loud before.”

He bites his lips together, glad Patrick can’t see his face. “Well, as someone who excels at running away, I know that eventually you have to deal with things.”

“I think the last few hours have been very helpful.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Patrick is teasing him, but there’s something else in his voice.

He snuggles closer to Patrick. Cuddling in bed isn’t something he’s done often, most of the people in his past relationships had been happy to have him leave as quickly as possible. Patrick’s free hand finds his hip and he tangles their feet together, his other hand still moving in David’s hair. He’s just drifting to sleep when Patrick whispers in his ear. “Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight.”

It’s just getting light out when he opens his eyes. Patrick’s body is curled around him, his head is heavy on David’s shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Just after seven.”

“Ugh.” Normally, he wouldn’t consider getting up at this hour, but he should probably be back in his room before his parents burst in singing Christmas carols. Or whatever new Christmas traditions they’ve invented overnight. “I should go.” He doesn’t move.

Patrick’s fingers stroke along his jaw, catching in his stubble. A strong hand cups the back of his neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Thank you for staying.”

Patrick’s body is warm and firm against his, making him think of how he had felt beneath him the night before. Yet somehow, it’s the thought of losing this sincerity that’s tugging at his insides. “Thanks for letting me.” He whispers the words, unable to make them any louder.

Patrick’s hand slides up his bare stomach. “So, uh, there’s something I didn’t tell you.”

“We hardly know each other, I imagine there’s a number of things you didn’t tell me.”

“Mmm.” Patrick’s finger is drawing circles on his chest. “The thing is, I’m not just passing through this time. I start a job with Ray Butani on Monday.” 

A jolt of old familiar fear and resignation surges through him. “And you’d prefer no one found out about this? Don’t worry, no one needs to know.”

“What? No.” Patrick struggles to sit up. “If anything, I was hoping…I was hoping I might be able to see you again. Like a date?” Patrick’s voice rises on the last word, a rare moment of uncertainty spilling out of him. David’s body is completely still. He might never move again. Patrick swings his legs over the edge of the bed, his back to David. “I understand if you don’t want that. This is all backwards.” 

He lifts his hand halfway towards the broad expanse of Patrick’s naked back; the temptation overriding the panic inside his head. “I...that would be...I would be okay with that.” He runs his hand down Patrick’s spine; he arches slightly beneath his touch.

“Just okay?” Patrick turns to look at him, amusement flaring in his eyes.

He can’t hold that gaze, it’s too much. “I would like that very much.” He tips his head back and says the words to the ceiling. “I would be happy to go on a date with you.” 

**CHRISTMAS EVE, 2019**

“David, we’re going to be late.”

“It’s your fault.” He calls out from the bathroom in Patrick’s apartment where he’s rushing through his hair and skin routine.

“If anything, you’re equally to blame.” Patrick leans in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at him in the foggy mirror.

“That’s not true.” He scowls at his boyfriend in frustration. “You’re the one who insisted we had a tradition to uphold.”

“I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight.” He flushes. They’d made good use of the couch in his store, their store, after they’d locked the door behind their last customer. As is becoming a tradition, they’re now very late for his dad’s annual Christmas Eve party.

“I suggested we could do...things...after we came back from the party.”

“Now we can do both.” Patrick leers at him in the mirror. On the bathroom counter, his phone buzzes angrily. His hands are covered in moisturizer. “Can you…?”

Patrick picks up the phone. “It’s your sister.” He swipes to accept the call and puts Alexis on speakerphone.

“What?!” 

“David. Where are you?” His sister’s voice is tinny through the speaker. “Everyone is waiting.”

“We’re on our way, Patrick made me late.”

“Ew, David.” In the mirror, Patrick grins. He sets the phone on the counter and slides his arms around David’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“I could make him even later.”

“Patrick!” His sister sounds shocked in a way she wouldn’t have it he’d been the one to say it. “David, Dad says Christmas can’t start without you, so hurry up.”

“If you’d let me finish getting ready, I could get there faster.”

“Okay, David.” An annoyed huff echoes through the phone. “Bye, Patrick.”

He takes one last look in the mirror before turning in Patrick’s arms. As always, it’s far too easy to get caught in Patrick’s eyes. “Merry Christmas, Patrick.” He smiles into the kiss, Patrick’s lips curve in response.

“Merry Christmas, David.”


End file.
